Remember to Breathe
by Baba-sama
Summary: No one said sophomore year would be easy...but they didn’t say it would be so hard, either. MD3, Charlie/Adam.
1. Starting off on the Wrong Skate

**Title: **Remember to Breathe

**Author: **Baba-sama

**Category: **Hmm…drama, angst, general stuff, humor, romance…anything goes, basically. I'd like to say it's because I'm a well-rounded writer, but no. Fickle to the bone, I am!

**Spoilers: **Hm. Probably littered everywhere. Only for D3, though, since I haven't watched D1 and D2 in, like, _years_. Wait. That's a lie. I watched D1 a few months ago, I think.

**Rating: **Probably nothing above PG-13. There's going to be boy!love, but it's a long ways away and won't be anything of the scandalous soft porn variety, so relax. I haven't tried writing sex scenes, and I have my reasons (…_brain implosion…must suppress nosebleed…and change underwear…)_

**Summary: **Charlie/Adam No one said sophomore year would be easy…but they didn't say it would be so hard, either.

**Disclaimer: **I do not claim to own the Mighty Ducks franchise. This fic is my humble offering to the fandom in the hopes that it'll be liked, that others will be inspired to write, and that the plot bunnies will stop gnawing at my brain. Or at least find a nonviolent way to tell me something.

**Author's Note: **I'm apologizing in advance to those who like dialogue – this first chapter is very wordy, but very few of those many words are actual dialogue. I'm not very good with dialogue…but I'll try my hardest to include more of it in the following chapters. This chapter's purpose is to just bring you up to speed about everything that's happened from the JV/Varsity game up until two weeks into sophomore year. Then all bets are off; I'm sort of writing this as I go. I also want to mention that the next part will probably not be written for a very, _very_ long time. As I said, I'm fickle, and my obsessions for things fade in and out at random intervals. Frustrating for you readers, I know, but also frustrating for me. I'd like to finish a damn story for once in my life…

**Feedback: **This is my first foray into the Ducks fandom, and like any fledgling author, I'd like some feedback. You know, constructive criticism and all that jazz. Oblige, will you? One more thing – I don't have a beta, so even though I checked this thing so many times that I'm almost sick of it, I might have missed some errors. So please, tell me if you see anything that looks odd or is a continuity error or something. Thank you!

**Etc: **Stole – I mean, _borrowed_, this beginning…thing from the indelible Sandra E., whom some of you may recognize if you've ever dived into the _Inuyasha_ section of FFnet. So cheers to her; hope she doesn't mind. Also: so begins the horror that is my chapter-naming. You have been warned! One more thing: I'll be including random (well, not _totally_ random) lyrics from songs after the title and before the actual story, just because I can. I'm good like that.

**Setting: **Eden Hall, 2 weeks or so into the Duck's sophomore year.

**Remember to Breathe**

_Chapter 1: _Starting off on the Wrong Skate

_take me away, I know _

_I could use the rest_

Charlie was having a Very Bad Day. To tell the truth, so far he'd had a Very Bad Two Weeks and there were bound to be more. Charlie rolled over and groaned into his pillow so as to not disturb Ken, who had passed out hours ago on the top half of their bunk bed.

It was the end of the first day of the Ducks' third week back at Eden Hall, and things weren't going as well as Charlie would've liked.

Reason number one? Varsity. Charlie had been hoping that after the now practically legendary JV/Varsity game that the Ducks would've finally earned some well-deserved respect as well as the right to stay at Eden Hall. Legally, they had the right (all thanks to Bombay), but it was Charlie's hope that Varsity would finally accept them as a part of the school. Maybe even let up on them a bit.

Charlie was wrong.

If anything, Varsity was more belligerent than ever. The Ducks learned (and were still learning) the hard way that the one point they'd scored on Varsity was worse than if they had tied. It had been a hard blow to Varsity's pride, especially to their coach, that the Ducks had scored with only three guys out on the ice.

Determined to never let that happen ever again, Coach Wilson trained Varsity harder than was humanly possible (which technically made it humanly possible, but Charlie wasn't going to argue semantics) after the game and over into the summer. As a result, the guys in Varsity found new inspiration for their hatred. Instead of hating their coach, who actually might have deserved it, they instead picked an easier target – the Ducks.

The result? During the first two weeks of the new school year the Ducks were subjected to swirlies, wedgies, being shoved into lockers, and other such cliché school bully tactics. Portman and Fulton were doing their best to defend the Ducks, but they were only two Bash Brothers – they could only do so much, and that didn't include being in two places at once. There was always at least one Duck with hair that smelled like toilet water or who was late for class because he or she had been stuck in their locker.

The pranks were getting meaner, too – Ken had almost broken down when he found the presentation he had worked on all night for science class torn to shreds in his locker (luckily, the teacher had taken pity on him and given him another day to work on preparing another one). Sooner or later things were going to really start getting physical.

There were signs that this was already starting, too. Averman had walked in this morning sporting a black eye, crowing over it as if it were a trophy ("If this looks bad, you should see the other guy!"). Fulton, who was in Averman's homeroom, was extremely pissed and vowed to find the guy who did it and pound him to a pulp. After that, the team agreed that no one was to walk anywhere alone, even if it was to go the bathroom. Luckily, each Duck had at least one other Duck in each of their classes.

Charlie couldn't help but feel a bit frustrated. It seemed that nothing would appease Varsity save the Ducks being expelled, and that was not an option. Bombay had made sure of that. Plus, after freshman year the Ducks not only didn't want to leave, they actually sort of wanted to stay. Despite the fact that the school was overrun with snotty preppies, Eden Hall really was a great place to get a good education. All of the teachers were great at, well, teaching, and some of them were even kind of cool.

It was at times like this that he really felt the blow that Hans' death dealt him. He missed being able to "open a door so sadly", missed Hans' corny but weirdly endearing attempts to cheer him up, missed the extremely insightful advice that made him see things from different sides. He could look to the team for comfort, but he didn't have anyone to go to for advice. There was Bombay, but after the game the Ducks' former coach and legal representative disappeared again. He'd told Charlie to call him if he wanted to talk, but Charlie didn't want to bother him with every little problem he had.

Just when Charlie thought he was going to go crazy with all the thoughts swirling around in his head…along came Linda.

Reason number two for Charlie's two weeks of discontent was Linda. It wasn't actually Linda that was the problem, though. In fact, she'd been a breath of fresh air – finally someone he could tell about his fears and his anger and anything else that was bothering him. It wasn't as good as having Hans back, but talking to her definitely helped.

Charlie actually had high hopes for them as a couple when they shared that kiss after the JV/Varsity game, but those hopes were quickly dissolving. And the funny thing was that it was happening because he was doing something he loved.

Things went well, at first. He and Linda had gone out on dates for the rest of freshman year, and then continued going out right on into the summer. Besides the Ducks, she was the only person he felt truly comfortable with at Eden Hall.

Soon enough he took her on a sort of initiation – the Ducks were important to him, and he'd wanted to know what they thought of her. Although Linda and the Ducks hadn't gotten along so well at first (because of her particular distaste for jocks – but then again, Varsity had been the only jocks she'd known), she later came to like them and vice-versa. It was very hard to dislike the Ducks. It was like what Averman used to say - "Everyone loves us when they get to know us. It's impossible to not like us." The one exception, of course, was Varsity.

Anyway, summer came and went and the Ducks came into their sophomore year at Eden Hall refreshed. And while they were not particularly excited about coming back to school, they were definitely ready for another hockey season. Good thing, too.

Orion had caught wind of the extra practices Varsity had been putting in and decided that it was a good idea for the Ducks to do the same, or the in the next JV/Varsity game things wouldn't go as "well" as they had in the last game. Somehow, Orion had managed to schedule practices into any time the Ducks weren't going to classes or doing homework or anything related to academics.

This meant that Charlie got to spend less time with Linda than he would've liked. In fact, the time he'd spent with her outside of school was so far practically nonexistent. Any free time he'd had after classes were over was either spent doing homework, studying for tests, or sleeping. And as for spending time together _inside_ of school, he didn't have even _one _class with her other than lunch. And even then, he was usually too tired to do anything other than take five minutes to eat and then catch up on some precious, much-needed sleep.

On one hand, he wasn't complaining, because he loved hockey. He would've quit by now if he didn't. It was his life, and the Ducks were like family. He loved them all. On the other hand, all these extra practices were seriously cramping his love life. He was beginning to think that the only way that he'd get to spend more time with Linda was if she started playing hockey, and that was really sad.

If that wasn't enough to stew over, this morning as they passed each other in the hall heading to their separate homerooms she'd waved at him and then given him a meaningful look. He'd been going out with her long enough to understand that look meant she wanted to talk, and he could already predict what the topic was going to be. But he figured it'd be useless worrying over that. He'd worry instead about how he was going to find the _energy_, much less time, to talk to her.

He could probably talk to her during lunch tomorrow, but that meant he'd actually have to make an effort to stay awake during lunch when for the last two weeks he'd without fail fallen asleep right after wolfing down his lunch. Maybe he could ask Adam to prod him with a fork before he fell asleep, or maybe save him some of the delicious-smelling but horrible-tasting black coffee he always brought in the morning. If they weren't still fighting tomorrow, that is.

Obviously, reason number three was Banksie. Charlie had apologized to him after the game of street hockey that came before the JV/Varsity game, and Adam had said that everything was cool between them, so they went back to their old best friend/rival ways.

But every once in a while, Adam would get into one of these weird moods where he'd unintentionally provoke Charlie or Charlie would unintentionally provoke him, and then somehow anything they said to each other pissed the other off. They'd end up storming off in opposite directions, each refusing to speak to the other. Then, either he or Adam would "come to their freaking senses" (as the team put it) and apologize to each other and the next day play street hockey or hang out at the arcade. It was odd, but they always ended up being friends again, so Charlie thought nothing of it.

When school started up, the fights got worse. Not because they happened more often, but because they were more intense. Hockey practice always ran long and hard, and Orion often scheduled both morning and afternoon practices in the same day. These extra practices often meant that the Ducks would have to stay up later than the rest of the school's population in order to finish homework, and this meant that they were bound to be tired in the morning.

Adam and Charlie were definitely not morning people. Tired and cranky, it was easier for fights between them to start. The fight from this morning was one of them.

_"Morning, Spazzie." Adam flopped down into the seat next to Charlie, looking rumpled and tired as was now usual. Charlie figured that Adam was too tired to make himself look immaculate, and he couldn't blame him – this morning, Charlie had almost fallen asleep trying to tug on his jeans, instead receiving a very painful wake-up call when he fell. He groaned at the memory and also at Adam's recent nickname for him._

"_Come on, Adam, you know I hate that nickname. It sounds so gay." Adam snorted._

"_As opposed to 'Banksie'? And when exactly did you become homophobic?" Charlie sighed, lifting his head from its resting place on his arms to look sideways at his best friend._

"_You know I don't mean it that way. And you never minded being called 'Banksie' before! Why are you so touchy all of a sudden?" Adam sat up, glaring at him._

"I'm _touchy? You're the one who's getting touchy about a nickname!" Charlie sat up slowly, eyes narrowed. He invaded Adam's personal space until their noses were only an inch or two apart._

_Guy and Luis, who were also in their homeroom, gave each other worried looks. Their homeroom teacher wasn't there yet, and there were very few people that could keep their headstrong captain and his equally headstrong best friend from fighting. Well, in this situation, from physically fighting._

_Luckily, Goldberg was one of them. He walked in and took one look at the practically snarling pair, shoved them apart as smoothly as he could, and proceeded to sit between them._

"_Hey guys? You have any food? Had to skip breakfast or I'd be late." Charlie dug into his backpack and shoved a bagel in front of him before leaning down to rest his head on his arms again, this time pointedly turning away from Adam, who had a sour look on his face as he glumly slumped back down into his seat._

"_Go ahead," Charlie said, closing his eyes. "I'm not hungry anymore."_

_Goldberg looked at Charlie, then Adam, then grabbed the bagel and sighed._

This had happened a few times already, and each time it had ended up with them being friends again. Their friendship-mending process had even turned into a demented sort of ritual.

It always started out with either one or both (usually both) of them mad. They'd come to practice and take that anger out on each other on the ice, checking each other brutally even if they were on the same team in scrimmages. Body checks got so rough between them that Fulton and Portman had on more than one occasion given them impressed (but not approving) looks.

The team wasn't fooled. They knew that Charlie and Adam were pissed at each other, even though the two protested that there was nothing wrong. But just like they knew the two were fighting, they also knew that no one else could resolve it except Charlie and Adam themselves.

Orion wasn't fooled either. He saw through everything, especially the hits claimed to be accidents and occasionally "random losses of focus". He often took each of them aside and gave them a brutal talking to, but that pretty much never worked.

Orion usually ended up making Charlie and Adam do continuous laps, telling them not to stop either until he told them to or until they collapsed. They'd turn doing laps into a contest of speed, and when their leg muscles were screaming in agony, they'd turn it into a contest of endurance. Neither wanted to stop before the other. Then, more or less at the same time, they'd both collapse and Orion would send them off to the penalty box, where they'd apologize to each other, too tired physically and mentally to argue anymore.

Charlie could tell Orion was getting mad at the both of them, but he also knew that Orion, like the team, could tell that this was something that Charlie and Adam needed to resolve between themselves.

Once, long ago, when they had started periodically fighting, Charlie had wondered if this friendship was worth all of the conflict and the mental beatings. He'd thought briefly about just giving in to the part of him that was tired of constantly being the jerk or of dealing with one. He'd thought about his life without factoring in his friendship with Adam.

And as unhappy as he was with things as they were, he'd realized that if you subtracted Adam Banks from the equation that was his life, you were left with a really unhappy Charlie. He didn't like picturing his life without his best friend. Maybe that was part of the reason why things went to hell when Adam was placed on the Varsity team.

Despite all the fights, Adam had taught Charlie a lot of things. He was the one who'd tirelessly tutored Charlie in the bane of nearly every high school student's existence, math, and helped him in whatever subject he needed help in. He was the yin to Charlie's yang; one of the only people Charlie would listen to when his occasionally volatile temper flared up.

Charlie didn't know how long they'd keep this cycle up, but he did know that there was obviously something bothering Adam. Charlie just had to figure it out. And the sooner he did, the better. The problem lay in how to approach Adam about this, especially since Adam's moods were becoming more and more reliably unreliable these days.

Charlie sighed into his pillow. First, he'd apologize to Adam, and ask him to keep him awake during lunch so that he could talk to Linda. Then…well, he'd figure out how to deal with Varsity later. Charlie flipped over onto his back and switched off the light, and then stared at the ceiling. Darkness clouded his vision, the only light coming from the slightly open door that separated his room from the hall.

He closed his eyes, and that light was gone. He needed sleep, and lots of it.


	2. A Skate to Grind

**AN:** And so we finally have an update! Wahoo? Are there people still waiting to see if I update this? If so, I'm terribly sorry. I'm just plumb shit at finishing things. And I'm writing everything by the seat of my pants, really, which makes everything take longer. But enough of that. Hopefully the next update won't take, what, three years? I'm hanging my head in shame, really I am. Hope this isn't too awful. And again, stupid chapter titles.

**Note:** After watching – okay, skimming – through the movie again, I realized that nowhere in the movie does it really show that the Ducks lived in dorms. _Varsity_ did, apparently, if only for the convenience of having them all in one place to pull the ant prank on. The movies themselves tend to have a lot of inconsistencies…anyway, my point is this: **assume all the Ducks are sleeping in dorms at the school. Also, the JV dorms are smaller than the Varsity ones in my head, thus the bunk beds**. That's what I assumed, probably because Varsity had dorms or whatever they were. Forgive that one inconsistency, if you will? And, of course, if you see any others, please tell me. And if you want, I can draw up a list of the pairs for dorms, but otherwise I'll just state them if need be (they're random and undecided – I've randomly stuck Charlie and Adam with Ken and Goldberg, respectively).

**Remember to Breathe**

_Chapter 2:_ A Skate to Grind

_i wanna clear up this mess_

_i need a few days_

_with my good sense_

"Banks, buddy. You okay?"

Adam groaned, rolling over under his blankets to come face to forehead with Goldberg, who winked and grinned when they made eye contact. Adam rubbed at his eyes and shook his head.

"Yeah. I feel great," Adam mumbled, voice rough with sleep and exhaustion.

Goldberg snorted. "Well, you look great. I hear bed-head's back in style these days."

This time Adam snorted, before giving his roommate a curious look. "What are you doing up so early?"

The goalie was already fully dressed, book bag slung over one shoulder, and Adam could distinguish the distinct smell of onion bagel breath, which meant he'd already had breakfast. It wasn't like Goldberg to actually be ready for class on time.

"I've got a better one for you: why are _you_ up so late?"

"_What_? Are you serious? What time is it?" Adam scrambled to get out of bed, grunting when he found himself tangled in the sheets.

"Whoa, slow down there, Banksie," Goldberg cautioned, dropping his bag on the floor and gesturing for him to quit struggling. "We're not late yet, but me having to take you to the nurse for the concussion you'll get when you fall outta bed will probably do it."

Adam grunted again, this time taking the time to unravel his legs from his blanket before shoving it roughly aside and coming to a sitting position. Goldberg put on an innocent expression and held one hand out as if to help him, but Adam only scowled and hopped down from the top bunk, wincing a bit when his feet hit the floor.

"Look, I'll get your stuff ready while you go de-stink yourself," Goldberg said, picking up Adam's bag as well as his own. Adam's eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth to protest – Goldberg wasn't exactly the most organized person he knew, so there was a chance he'd end up with exactly what he didn't need for the day – but Goldberg just held up a hand and made a zipping motion across his lips before waving a hand at the desk in their room, on top of which was a pile of what looked like the right books for today.

Adam stopped digging through his dresser and stared at the goalie, who merely shrugged and started stuffing the books haphazardly into Adam's messenger bag.

"Charlie dropped by while you were sleeping," Goldberg offered by way of explanation, voice way too casual to be natural. Adam didn't reply, only grabbing his clothes and heading for the bathroom. He heard Goldberg sigh and gave a little sigh himself before closing the door and leaning against it, rubbing his forehead.

Charlie.

Good thing he'd been asleep. He wasn't really prepared to deal with the captain of the Ducks fully conscious, let alone groggy and dead tired. He couldn't even remember if they were fighting right now…or what exactly it was that they'd fought about this time, if they were.

Adam pushed off the door and grunted, every muscle in his body protesting the movement. He staggered off towards the small mirror, ending up leaning heavily against the sink just underneath it, and stared at his reflection. He looked almost as tired as he felt – skin paler than usual, bags under slightly bloodshot eyes, hair a frenzied mess. The late nights doing homework and grueling practices were definitely taking their toll.

It wasn't easy, but he could handle staying up to study and practices so tough you never thought you'd be able to get up again – he'd gotten used to it back when he'd been a Hawk in peewees, under pressure from his coach and his father. He'd gotten less used to it when he'd been shuffled in with the Ducks and the organized chaos of their team practices, but he had no doubt that he'd find his rhythm eventually.

But even if his body got used to the high physical strain of practice, and even if it got easier to crack open the books a couple of hours later than the rest of his fellow students, he was willing to bet that two things would still stand in the way of his personal equilibrium: Varsity and Charlie.

Varsity had been riding the Ducks _hard_ for the past two weeks, and Adam hadn't been surprised. He'd dealt with enough large egos – in hockey and outside of it – to know what generally happened when they were bruised. The problem, though, wasn't the fact that Varsity's egos had been bruised, though that certainly hadn't helped the situation – it was the fact that to the Varsity players, the Ducks' continued presence at Eden Hall was like salt in an open wound.

Adam sighed, moving to shed his shirt, and grunted a little as he raised his arms. He carefully checked his right shoulder, slowly rolling it backwards and then forwards, and winced at the sharp pinch of pain that eventually petered out into a dull ache.

Great. Along with the regular muscle ache from practice, there was probably going to be an ugly bruise coloring his shoulder, courtesy of Varsity and his very own locker.

He snorted lightly and shoved the shower door open, turning the knob for hot water on and tweaking the cold knob to adjust the temperature. He tested the water with his hand first before stepping into the spray, hissing when the water hit his aching shoulder until the sensation felt like more of a relief than mild torture; until he felt like the water was melting away the tension rather than painfully beating down on the sore spots.

He could still play with the bruise – you got used to them, especially in hockey – but he had a feeling Varsity wouldn't let up even if he became a walking mass of mottled blue and purple skin. There was only so much of Varsity's abuse that he could take, but there was only so much he could do by himself – and whatever he could do, he wasn't doing. Practices were slowly making him stronger, sure, but they also left him with little energy left to do much else but study, which afterwards made his brains feel like mush. Making Varsity back off was definitely going to take a team effort. Charlie would probably have a plan. Charlie _always_ had a plan.

"…Charlie," Adam breathed out, rubbing his face and grimacing.

There was something weird going on between him and Charlie. Or to be more accurate, something weird going on with _him_ that somehow involved Charlie. The worst part about it was that he wasn't quite sure what exactly it was about Charlie that set him off.

Back when he'd been placed on Varsity – dark times, he muttered to himself – he'd found himself at one point facing cold fronts on both sides. Varsity, he'd expected, and aside from an exception or two he'd never really expected to become a real part of the team. But to face it from the Ducks, who he still thought of as his team, and beyond that, his family – now that had been more of a surprise, and definitely hurt more than anything Varsity could have done to him.

Granted, that dinner disaster hadn't earned him any points with the Ducks, but he'd hoped they would know he wouldn't have told them it was cool if he'd known. Stupid, really. He should have been suspicious. He'd heard all the mean little comments about his then-former teammates in the locker rooms, in the varsity dorms, even just in the halls…he should have realized they wouldn't suddenly turn around and want to make nice.

_What's done is done_, he thought to himself, rubbing a little at his shoulder. It'd ended up all right anyway, with the Ducks apologizing to him and vice-versa, though it had taken him a little while longer to forgive himself.

But the one person who'd taken the longest of the Ducks to forgive him was Charlie. And that had hurt the worst of all, not just because they were best friends and not just because he thought that of all people Charlie would've trusted him no matter what.

Back in the peewees, when a district technicality made him a Duck – if in name only, at least – Charlie had been the only pair of warm eyes, the only Duck who'd been remotely welcoming. Walking with Bombay down the hall that day he'd steeled himself for the range of negative reactions – cold shoulders, glaring, indifference, the lot. Charlie had been the only one to offer him a hand that day.

To have the trust that built up after all those years turn so utterly around on its head…maybe that wasn't something as easily resolved as it had been, that day when they'd all gotten together to play street hockey.

"_Banks!" Charlie called out, brushing off his shirt and making a face before picking an old banana peel off one of his rollerblades. Adam barely suppressed a grin, glad that the team hadn't decided he needed to be stuffed into a garbage can like Charlie or Bombay. Although he wouldn't have minded as much. It was just good to play with everyone again, to really feel like part of a team again._

"_Yeah, Charlie?"_

"_Can I talk to you for a second?" The good cheer of only a few minutes ago disappeared from Charlie's face, replaced with something more serious._

"_Yeah, sure." Adam skated off to a deserted spot of the court, knowing Charlie would follow. He caught a couple of concerned glances from some of the other Ducks and gave them a small smile, reaching to unhook the latch on his helmet and tossing it on the ground next to the wire fence. He heard Charlie do the same and proceeded to sit down, leaning on the fence for support._

"_So…"Charlie collapsed onto the ground next to him, still holding his own helmet. He kept flipping it over and over in his hands, and didn't say anything else._

_Adam rolled his eyes a little. "So what, Charlie?"_

"_Uh. Well, about…everything. You know. _Everything." _The helmet stopped spinning, and Adam felt rather than saw Charlie's intense gaze._

"_I'm sorry, Adam."_

_Adam looked up, locking eyes with his fellow Duck, his Captain. _

_His best friend._

_Without a word, he solemnly raised one hand and formed a fist. Charlie flinched, closing his eyes, and Adam's hand moved towards Charlie's head, fingers unclenching and moving to enthusiastically mess up Charlie's hair. Charlie's eyes shot open and Adam smiled and punched him gently on the shoulder. Relief came off Charlie in waves, and the tension sagged out of him._

"_Aw, did Spazway and Banks finally make up? I think I'm gonna need a tissue, guys, seriously!" Russ shouted, miming tears. He lunged at Averman and pretended to sob, and Averman went along with it, the both of them collapsing to the ground and beating on the concrete, the sounds of their wailing being drowned out by the rest of the team's laughter. Charlie stared at them, mouth agape, and whatever spell he was under was broken when Adam started laughing._

"_Russ, Averman, you're dead!" Charlie shot up off the ground, dumping his helmet into Adam's lap and streaking after Russ and Averman, who'd immediately gotten up and were screaming as they frantically tried to make a getaway._

_Adam smiled._

Was that what was making him piss off Charlie or made some things Charlie said aggravating? He hadn't said it out loud, but he _had_ forgiven Charlie that day…or so he thought. Frustrated, Adam rubbed at his face, like he was trying to wash the mud from his brain. He'd forgiven Charlie, but he could see no other reason why he sometimes found the urge to take a jab at Charlie, why the smallest thing Charlie said could tick him off. Maybe he needed more than that apology, but at the time he'd just been glad to have things more or less back to normal—

"Banks! I said you stunk, but you don't smell _that_ bad! I can't believe I'm saying this, but we're gonna be late! Hop to it, cake-eater!"

Adam jumped, banging his bruised shoulder on the shower door and wincing.

"Alright, Goldberg, I'll be done in a second!"

He shut the water off and toweled himself down, quickly throwing on his clothes. He shot out of the bathroom and caught his messenger bag when Goldberg tossed it at him, and they dashed out of their room.

_Whatever it is, I better figure it out,_ Adam thought grimly, as he and Goldberg rushed into their homeroom and practically dived into their seats seconds before the late bell rung.

Charlie was already in his seat, but his head was on his desk and he was snoring. Adam watched as Goldberg smacked the back of Charlie's head and he woke with a yelp. Goldberg pointedly nodded in his direction, and Charlie looked at him and smiled, albeit a bit cautiously. It took a little bit of effort, but Adam smiled back, and he saw Charlie relax a little before their homeroom teacher strode in and started taking attendance.

_We need the whole team to work together if we're going to get through this,_ Adam thought_. And it won't work if me and Charlie are tearing each other apart every other day._


	3. Loose Skate

**AN:** 'Sup guys? Um, it's been a while, I know. (Understatement!) I'm here with another chapter, obviously. I say it a lot in my profile (…which probably no one reads), but I really do mean it when I say I will finish everything I have up so far. I plan on finishing _this_ story first, though, mostly because I have easy access to the source material (AKA the movies). Anyway, I hope you guys like this chapter. I make no promises about the timing of the next update, but another one _will_ be coming.

And as always, if you notice anything off, whether I messed up my grammar or tenses or my continuity, let me know.

**Note:** Bit of Spanish in this one. One line, actually. (One and a half if you count some of the other butchered line.) Last time I had Spanish was in as a junior in high school, which was 5+ years ago, so. Try not to laugh! Kidding. It's not even funny, anyway, even if I got it wrong. It's a simple sentence, I just don't remember the whether 'problem' is a masculine or feminine noun or whatever.

…this was a particularly useless note. Um. Read on!

P.S. – If you haven't noticed, I've been taking idioms and replacing one of the words with the word "skate". This is because I suck at coming up with chapter names (and because I usually don't know what's going to happen in a chapter until after I've written it). This will last as long as I can hack it (my last resort will be using other hockey-related words). The butchered idioms may or may not have anything to do with what goes on in the chapter (but it more likely will be relevant rather than random).

**Remember to Breathe**

_Chapter 3:_ Loose Skate

_oh, to fight is to defend_

_if it's not now then tell me when_

It was rare that Charlie found himself unable to think of something to say. More often than not he found that his mouth moved before his brain could register that he'd even decided to say anything, but this time around his mind was blank. It was probably because he was exhausted, but another part of it was that even though Adam seemed just plain tired this morning instead of something bad like tired and _angry_, there was always a chance that something might set one or both of them off.

It was like trying to safely cross a small minefield blindfolded, which sounded cool in theory but definitely sounded less cool in practice – even figuratively in practice. Hah, figuratively. So some of those SAT words Adam had bothered him about learning had stuck. What would the figurative equivalent of a really cool explosion be?

A thump from Adam's direction made Charlie look over in his direction. Adam had let his head fall down on already folded arms, face scrunched up in a definite frown as he attempted to find a comfortable position.

_Oh. Right,_ Charlie thought, _a figurative kaboom would be bad. Still gotta test the waters, though._

He glanced over at Adam again, wishing his friend would say something he could respond to so he could at least get some kind of conversation started, but Adam only continued shifting around, scowling slightly. He looked over to Goldberg hoping for a little help, but the goalie was studiously ignoring the both of them to read what Charlie recognized as one of the many comics Portman had lugged into the JV dorms after Bombay had brought the estranged Bash brother back to the Duck family.

Charlie almost sighed out loud but looked back at Adam, resigned to the fact that he'd have to come up with something to talk about. It was then that Adam yawned, and when Charlie tried to fight off the urge to yawn himself a light bulb went off in his head.

"No coffee?"

Adam looked over at him, head still pillowed on his arms.

"Huh?"

"You know," Charlie mimed holding a cup and pretended to take a sip. "Coffee."

Adam blinked at him, and Charlie could almost see the gears in his head working to process this information.

"Ugh," Adam groaned, closing his eyes. "Remind me never to wake up late again."

Charlie grinned down at him, any thoughts about tiptoeing around Adam's unpredictable mood fluttering away.

"I dunno, buddy, I think the high-class bum look suits you."

Adam glared at him half-heartedly, looking away briefly to call out a tired "here" when their homeroom teacher called out "Banks" in taking attendance.

"You are so lucky I'm too tired to hit you right now."

Charlie called out his own distracted "here" when their teacher called out "Conway", his grin only widening.

"You can hit me later, if you want. I'll even let you get an extra hit in if you do me a favor."

Adam gave him a look that said he was seriously considering holding him to that. Charlie tried to console himself with the fact that it probably wouldn't hurt. Well, not much, anyway. Maybe.

"So what's the favor?"

Charlie's grin faded. He'd forgotten about worrying about what Linda wanted to talk about in favor of worrying about if he and Adam were going to be fighting again today, but now that it seemed like that wasn't going to be happening for now he was free to worry about the talk with Linda again.

"You know how I'm always falling asleep at lunch lately?"

A corner of Adam's mouth twitched up. "Yeah. It's like clockwork, Charlie. I don't even have to look at my watch during lunch."

Charlie's nose crinkled up a bit, and he gave Adam a light scowl. "Yeah, well, I need you to make sure I don't conk out. Poke me with a fork, tape my eyelids open, tell me the meatloaf is going to eat _me_ if I don't eat _it_. Anything, man. Just make sure I don't fall asleep."

Adam finally smiled a little. "I'll be creative. But why the sudden need to stay awake?"

Charlie fidgeted a little, half-hoping that the bell that said classes were starting would ring, but sighed after a few seconds passed and nothing happened. Adam was still half asleep, but there was definitely a bit of curiosity in his eyes, mixed with a little bit of concern at Charlie's obvious bit of discomfort. Charlie folded his arms and lowered his head on top of them so that he mirrored Adam's resting position on his own desk, but he couldn't manage to look Adam in the eye.

"Linda wants to…talk. And she didn't say what she wanted to talk about," Charlie admitted, quietly enough so that his voice only carried over to Adam, who hummed sympathetically under his breath.

"Well, Charlie, whatever happens, you know I've got your back, right?" Adam said, eyes starting to look more awake than sleepy. Charlie nodded, and some part of him was relieved, for some reason. Adam then grinned.

"So I'll keep you awake at lunch, but you don't have to let me hit you." Charlie faked looking extremely relieved, and Adam rolled his eyes. "I kind of owe you for getting all my stuff ready, anyway. But can you do me a favor, too?"

"Sure, Banksie. What do you need?"

"Could you maybe brush your teeth once in a while? Your breath kind of smells like something died in your mouth."

"Really?" Charlie asked, reflexively blowing some air into one of his hands and sniffing at it. He smelled some mint, but he also caught a whiff of the stink Adam was talking about. "I actually brushed my teeth this morning, though, so unless my toothpaste company decided to try some funky new scent like 'Fresh Garbage' I don't think I—"

They froze, sat up, and sniffed the air.

"_Goldberg_!"

Goldberg only continued reading his comic book, grinning as the smell slowly spread through the room and people started fanning the air in front of their noses or breathing through their mouths.

"What can I say?" Goldberg laughed, as Adam and Charlie both pounced on him and whacking him with rolled up sheets of loose-leaf paper while the rest of their homeroom cheered the two of them on. Their homeroom teacher, who was holding her nose shut, looked away from the commotion with a small smile.

"I love onion bagels, but the things they do to my digestive tract…."

* * *

The rest of the classes leading up to lunch passed without much incident. Charlie kept himself awake and amused in between classes thinking about their buddy system – or "flock system", as Connie had put it – as he greeted the other Ducks whenever he passed them in the halls. He gave Ken a jaunty wave and a toothy smile on his way to his last class before lunch – Spanish – knowing without looking that behind him, Averman was probably doing the same thing. They both grinned at Ken's response – a snort, half-smile, and an eye roll – before nodding greetings at Fulton and Portman, who'd appointed themselves Ken's unofficial bodyguards.

(_"Gotta protect the little bro," Portman had crowed after yesterday's evening practice, the one where they'd decided on the flock system after venting about the black eye Averman had gotten that morning. Portman had put Ken in a headlock and gave him a noogie, and Ken had responded by twisting out from under the Bash Brother's arm and jumping on his back, attempting a sleeper hold. _

"_Little bro's got _moves_!" Fulton had laughed, doubled over on his stomach, and the team watched on, laughing, as Portman twisted around trying to grab his attacker while Ken dodged and weaved, skating circles around him._)

They were nearly right in front of the door to their class, practicing rolling their "r"s, when Averman stopped both "accidentally" getting spit on Charlie and moving. Charlie almost elbowed him in retaliation for the spit thing and for not moving, because Mrs. Gutierrez was actually pretty militant about her students being on time for class, but stopped once he realized what – well, _who_ Averman was looking at.

"What are you looking at, four eyes? Does your face miss my fist or something?"

Charlie ground his teeth, only getting more tense and angry when he looked at Averman's ramrod straight position and suddenly even paler skin and realized that the Varsity goon in front of them must have been the one who'd given Averman the black eye he was still sporting.

The goon in question was new in the sense that he hadn't played last year against them – he was a reserve player, good but not good enough to be first or second string, and the arrival of the Ducks had pretty much shut him out from playing JV hockey. He'd probably spent his junior year pissed off at them – Charlie had seen the guy in pictures along with some of the other Varsity players back in their JV years. He'd been easy enough to recognize on sight, at least – he was big guy, only a little smaller than Portman, with dark hair long enough to be kept in a short ponytail.

_Morris_, Charlie thought. He'd seen the guy before, had by chance heard him respond to the name when he was hanging with the rest of the Varsity team at their table in the cafeteria. He wasn't the only new guy on the Varsity team, as a few spots had opened up when some of the Varsity guys had graduated, but he was definitely one of the nastier ones.

"Back off, jockstrap," Charlie said, moving slightly more in front of Averman and quickly looking up and down the hallway to see if there were any Ducks passing by in case they needed back-up.

Morris noticed what Charlie was doing and laughed a little.

"What, is the leader of the little ducklings scared? You guys always need those two gorillas around to defend you?"

Charlie looked at Morris from head to toe and back up again and gave him a smirk.

"Aren't you the pot calling the kettle black? And at least my _friends_ have evolved. Can't say the same for you. I bet your brain's still the size of a walnut!" Morris snarled before quickly moving towards them, fists clenched and one arm pulled back to strike. Charlie closed his eyes and braced for impact, already thinking up the war story Averman could help him tell later, but after a couple of seconds without the throbbing pain that would turn into a spectacular black eye or two he cautiously let one eye open.

Morris was looking to the side and trying to mask a scowl. Charlie turned around to see Mrs. Gutierrez turning a sharp glare at them all. He winced.

"¿Hay un problema aquí, muchachos?"

Charlie gave her a blank look, and from the way she sighed he guessed that Averman and Morris were giving her the same look.

"Do we have a problem here, boys?"

"No, Mrs. Gutierrez. No tengo un problem…um, aki?" Charlie replied, his voice going up at the end. Mrs. Gutierrez winced, and pushed Charlie and Averman inside the classroom, giving Morris a hard stare.

"You should run along, Mr. Morris. I know for a fact that you have Mr. Coleman first period, and he tolerates tardiness about as well as I do. Which is _not at all._"

Charlie grinned at Morris' expression from his spot just beyond the door – the Varsity player looked annoyed, worried, and the tiniest bit afraid. He almost sympathized with the guy – Mrs. Gutierrez could be downright scary when she wanted to be. Morris noticed Charlie watching, and Charlie gave him a smirk.

Morris looked murderous, and moved forward like he was going to do something, but made the mistake of looking back at Mrs. Gutierrez and froze.

"_Alexander Morris._ Get yourself to class _right. Now_. Do _not_ force me to escort you to the principal – or better yet, Coach Wilson. _Are we clear_?"

Morris now looked truly afraid. "Yes ma'am."

Charlie almost laughed at how Morris practically flew down the hall like his pants were on fire, but any humor he found at that image died as Mrs. Gutierrez turned and pinned the same look she'd probably given Morris on _him_. He might've let out an embarrassing squeak of fear if he hadn't also been afraid that the smallest sound would set her off.

"Mr. Conway. Seat. _Now_."

Charlie ran to his seat next to Averman while trying to look like he wasn't fleeing for his life. He risked a glance at the front of the class and saw Mrs. Gutierrez now smiling normally at the class, moving to pick up her textbook.

Charlie shook his head a little, one side of his mouth quirking up. He turned a bit so he could see Averman a little better, preparing himself for what would he predicted would be a mocking grin probably followed by a vocal mocking later – if not by Averman, then definitely from one of the other Ducks once Averman told the story – but all he found was Averman staring down at his desk.

Charlie frowned before gently poking Averman's arm with a pen, which made his friend look over at him for a minute. Averman's mouth moved slightly – almost like he wanted to smile, but couldn't, and even if he could Charlie could already tell that the smile wouldn't have reached Averman's eyes. Charlie struggled to think up something to say, but then they both had to look away as Mrs. Gutierrez had the class go over the vocabulary homework they'd been given last night out loud.

Charlie stabbed at his notebook in frustrated strokes, his anger starting to boil up the same way it had when he'd first seen Averman stroll in with a black eye, trying to cover it with a smile. He took a deep breath, turned to a new page, and attempted to take some notes or at the very least pay some attention to whatever Mrs. Gutierrez was saying.

It mostly didn't work.

_I need to talk to…Linda,_ Charlie sighed mentally. He suddenly felt that sharp pang that always popped up whenever he thought about Hans, who probably would have had advice about what to do about not only Varsity but Linda, too. He'd thought this over and over, with increasing frequency since they'd started sophomore year, but it didn't do anything other than make him miss Hans a lot.

Maybe Hans would have had some advice about Adam, too, but Charlie wasn't sure that was something he would have asked Hans about, and that was only partially because he didn't really know what was messing with their friendship. But some part of him knew that he and Adam would be able to fix whatever was happening between them, because they were Ducks. Nothing was going to change that, and he wouldn't _let_ anything change that ever again. He knew Adam felt the same way.

But Linda…wasn't a Duck. She was his girlfriend. And if there was something wrong with them, he really hoped they could fix it.


End file.
